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Discovering Literature, Finding Me

            Literature links all lives together across the globe simply through a story. This story is about pain, love, family; it's the idea that people can express themselves though black ink on paper. Growing up, I loved to read. I have read everything from every golden book as a kid to every Mortal Instruments and Nicholas Sparks novel to date. The letters of each book, each page, each sentence, seem to dance around the page, leaping and twirling into the basis of my secret drawer of bundled imagination. From my earliest years, literature has always had a big influence on my life. As a little girl I read book on princesses in towers waiting to be save by their knight and shinning armor, waiting to sweep them off of their feet. Those stories have influenced my idea of a future husband. .
             I read my first chapter book in third grade and never slowed down after that. Whatever chance I would get during the school hours of Pre-school I would find a nook and read until my teacher found me, and because of that, I got in trouble a lot! Even at home I would get into trouble for reading. When it was my bedtime, I could never fall asleep right away, so I would read. Sometime if I got caught up in a good book, I would read for hours and hours underneath my sheets with a flashlight. When my parents came up to check on my sibling and I they would often find me reading. They would take my book and flashlight and tell me I had to go to sleep. My parents were big supporters of my reading though; they encouraged me to read whenever I got the chance too. They enjoyed hearing me tell my adventures that I journeyed back from as much as I enjoyed reading the adventure. .
             Pre-school helped me develop my love for letters. Letters were the basis of everything fun, reading, writing, and crafts! During the first few weeks of class we started to learn how to write our names. I knew then that I was thankful for a short name because I had a hard time writing it! At this point I began writing on everything in my sight, copying words onto walls, scraping my fingers along the sides of the small piece of chalk left on the driveway, and using my finger as a pencil for writing on my moms dirty car.

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